Oh, Chrisine!
by operagal
Summary: Erik's monologue after Christine left with his gondola... and his hope.


Christine, all I ever wanted was for you to return my love. Every moment and every thought was spent and fought for you. Without you, I would have given up years before. But then I found you, and was fooled into believing that you'd one day love me, because you knew my voice first. You knew me as an angel before you discovered that I was the devil. I needed, I lived, for that trust. Christine, you were the only reason why I stayed at the Opera. It held only painful memories for me, yet when you came there, I finally understood that I had a purpose. I must teach you, and you must become loved by all. But before I took on this task, I forgot to question how I'd feel about sharing you with others. After all the long nights spent with you, listening and even joining in with your voice, it was so hard, so very hard to let others have you as well. I wanted you to myself. I know this was wrong, but I loved you violently. I was often tempted to leave the theatre just to escape the feeling of dependency. I was not accustomed to sharing another's life, to worrying, for once, about another's safety. I only ever had myself to worry about. But I trusted you. I thought that you were different than the others. They crave only that in a person which is beautiful. And how they treat ugliness… Oh Christine, if only you knew what I've been through, then maybe you'd love me for my trials. You'd see that it was not my choice, I had no other path than the one I am walking. You would not blame my soul as you did, but my ugliness, which is the true cause of my dark fate. I was so hesitant, yet anxious, to show myself to you. I wanted you to see me, to see my wretched, burning skin so I could finally be sure if it was truly _me_ you said you loved, or just my voice like all the rest. But you tricked me. You made me believe that you accepted me. That you might even have still loved me despite my sad face. I believed you. I wanted to believe you, so I showed myself to you. You were the first that I ever let see me by my own choice. Few times before have I even been noticed, and those who did and were unable to flee accepted the fate that was theirs for their mistake. I am not proud, as you can imagine, of how I look. I depend on fear for my protection. So long as they fear me, they will not dare to venture near to me. It was so hard to show myself to you. What if you drew back? What if you laughed or screamed or fainted, Christine, I would rather die than see you react this way. But again, I trusted you. You convinced me, yet again, that you were different. Slowly, it seemed that you began to draw me away from my solitude in the dungeons of the Opera, and out into the light again. I was amongst people, people I knew, and once wanted to love. Yet they still wore the same expression when they saw me. Christine, help me forgive you! I want to, believe me, I do! But you were never happy. Twice, did you seize my mask, trying to deny me the only protection I had above the dungeons were I dwelled. Once, you drew it off as I sat vulnerable, rendered motionless by your touch. Why did you do it? Could you not just accept me as I wanted to appear to you? Must you control everything, Christine? My _mask_? I would have gladly given you anything to save myself from your reaction. At least if you had warned me. But you did not deem that necessary. You'd rather deceive me and take it from me when I was distracted. Yes, you robbed me the first time you touched me. You were caressing my face, Christine, and I cannot explain how delighted, how blissful I was that you were touching me by your own free will. It was like you desired me. But then I realized your conspiracy, for truly this is what it was. But, alas, I was too late. You saw me. And I'd rather have died, in all honesty, than lived to see the pity in your eyes. How _dare_ you pity me! Did you think that I wanted your pity? That perhaps you were doing me a favour by pulling off my mask? No, what a foolish thing to ask. I realized too late that you were concerned only with your own little conquests. First, you needed to find your apparent _angel of music_, that your father sent you on a hunt for. What was I to do? Say to your hopeful eyes that I was not this angel that you were seeking? I wanted to be so desperately. But again, I'd forgotten about your conquests. You then had to lure me out of the shadows, making me vulnerable enough for you to tear off my mask and reveal me without my consent. If you would have waited, Christine, I swear to you that I would have shown you in time. I wanted to be certain that you loved me before I gave you that. I needed to protect myself. You then somehow got me to take you down into my dungeon, showing you everything. You saw my organ, my preparations and hopes for our future, and I even gave my bed over to you that night. You had everything in your possession now. Even me. You had _me_ in your charge, to do with as you wished. I would have changed for you, if you but asked. I would have let you take me anywhere, so long as I could be with you, beside you. But Christine, I did not know that your beauty and endless trust had ensnared another. That is, until I heard you sing your love to him on the rooftop. Did you know that I was there? Did you know that I heard every word you confessed to each other? I learned for the first time what you truly thought of my appearance. How you could not get the sight out of your mind. You said you were frightened. He held you. Christine, he _kissed_ you and my heart died in my hollow chest when I saw you kiss him back. Sheer_ days_ after you visited me, you confessed love to another. You took everything from me, things I was not willing to give, but would have accepted, had you stayed. I screamed into the night, vowing to bring you down with me, my love. And I meant it. You loved another. I cursed myself, for this is who I was truly infuriated at, for letting my guard down. I had learned years ago that only in myself could I trust. Yet I abandoned this knowledge when I fell in love with you. Don't laugh, Christine, I know it's ridiculous. The_ Phantom of the Opera_, the monster with the broken face, in love with Christine, the emerging goddess of music. But you'd forgotten about your angel. I worked so hard to help you. But it was becoming dangerous. When I went to the Masquerade, I was possessed. What I wore, what I said, what I did, was all out of my power. I went there only because I was assured that you'd be there. You had robbed me of my music. I could no longer write, because my constantly pursuing mind would not leave the image of your face. I needed to see you again, whatever the cost. But I was unprepared for the ring at your neck. You _accepted? _I wanted to _destroy_ him for taking you from me. You said you'd stay with me, follow me always, yet you left me at the first chance you got. He only loved you because I made your voice soar. Do you think he'd love you so if you'd still been a chorus girl? Yet the worst, the very worst thing you could have done, was what you executed that night. The night you left me. I've spoken of you taking everything and leaving me empty, yet you truly ravaged me when you seduced me that night on stage. _Why?_ Why would you reveal me in front of so many eyes, when you know how important it is that I lay hidden? I still do not understand what possessed me to sing on stage with you. Perhaps the thought of you being touched by yet another man was more than even _I _could bear. I knew that if I did not intervene that night… I knew you would leave me forever. I knew that he had horses waiting, waiting for you to finish so he could whisk you off. Away from me. Was that your plan? To run and be free of me? Was I so much of a burden? I protected you, Christine! I _fought_ for you, I climbed the stairs and emerged from my safety so I could come to your call. Yet you betrayed me. You ran to another, but only after you took away any chance of me ever continuing on with this life I live. For how can I now breathe freely, knowing that you are out there with _him_. That you left me for a _boy _too young to know what he wants. And you think I'm petty for saying this, but it's quite correct. He left his brother, his business, and his friends for you—a woman who he only loved because you belonged to _me_! After all, what a jest, what a hilarious, vulgar joke it would be if you loved me back! And your voice, Christine, he fell for your voice. You know this. So how can I forgive you? Tell me, Christine, help me! I gave you all I could. You took everything I offered and stole what I could not. Was I easy prey? It must have been so simple. A twisted gargoyle, so desperate to leave his isolation, so in need of affection, that he would do anything for the slightest show of faith. He would give anything. And I gave everything. But you made your choice. And you made it clear by leaving me to die after kissing me and causing me to feel guilt for the first time. I gave you to him, Christine, I let you go because you kissed me to save him. Yet— _curse me!— _but I could _swear_ that I saw love in your eyes! Was this a trick of the candle light? Were the fresh tears that shinned in your eyes from the thought that you'd soon see your lover depart with his life? … Was it a pity kiss? Christine, I swear by… I no longer have anything of value to swear by, not even my life, but I _swear _that if it was pity that inspired you to kiss me, I will seek out death upon this very night. I cannot bear to sully that moment, that moment which is the only memory I have of anything near to happiness. Even though I knew that you were only kissing me to release your lover… Your lover. Oh Christine, how can I ever forgive you? You took another. You took a _boy_ in place of your angel. And left me to die. Taking my boat, my only means of escape, and fleeing with your lover. Yes, I urged you to do this, but I wanted to hear you fight. I _needed_ you to refuse leaving my side. Perhaps I partially hoped that you kissed me first and seemingly chose me because it was truly _me_ whom you loved. I was greedy for your heart. But I waste both of our time. You have made your choice, and since I was not it, I must let it be. I will think of you always, each moment that I still breathe. Know that, above _everything_ I have said, I love you, and will love you always. Perhaps it is better this way. But perhaps not. I want to say that I wish you well, but how can I? _How can I?_ Oh Christine, _forgive me_, and help me, _please,_ help me to forgive _you_!


End file.
